


Pleasure Reading

by Amelia_Clark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Oral Sex, Schmoop, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, do you have this in paperback?, sex-induced property damage, sweet nothings, the Starks give the Winchesters a run for their money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam frowned in annoyance. “Wait. You want me to read this in the car while you and Cas do it, don’t you.”</p><p>Dean grinned. “Well, it doesn’t have to be the car.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasure Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Follow-up to [I'm Fine Without](http://archiveofourown.org/works/950652). So mid-season 8ish?

Dean insisted they stop at the bookstore on their way out of town.

“What?” he asked Sam, who was staring at him in shock. “I read!”

Sam shrugged and pulled into the parking lot. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Once inside, Dean flashed his most ingratiating smile at the brunette behind the info desk and asked for the fantasy section. Sam trailed them, eyes wide with alarm; what was happening to his brother? One shatter-the-windows night with Cas and he’s suddenly changed his attitude towards “that elves and wizards crap”?

“Ah, that’s what I’m looking for!” Dean announced in triumph, reaching for a George R.R. Martin box set. “Is this all of them?” he asked the bookseller, who was still hovering nearby with that look girls got after they got that smile.

“Uhm, no, but the fifth one’s still only in hardcover. Let’s see…here!” She handed Dean _A Dance with Dragons_ and looked up at him through her lashes hopefully. 

“Thanks, dude,” he said distractedly. The shopgirl looked momentarily crushed but, a professional to the core, she walked them up to the register to ring them up.

“There you go, Sammy,” Dean said, pressing the heavy bag into Sam’s arms as they walked out. Then, taken aback at his brother’s stunned look: “You wanted to read these, right? You wouldn’t let me watch the show cause you wanted to read the books first. So help me, Sam, if I’ve missed _two seasons’ worth of tits_ and you didn’t mean it, then—”

“No, I do, I do! I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t think you’ve ever gotten me a book before, much less five. I mean, there are thousands of pages here!” Light dawned on Sam, and he frowned in annoyance. “Wait. You want me to read this in the car while you and Cas do it, don’t you.”

Dean grinned. “Well, it doesn’t have to be the car.”

“Goddamn it, Dean! I should’ve known you wouldn’t do something nice for me without an ulterior motive.”

“Hey! This is your fault, dude! You set this up!”

“Well, sort of, yeah—I mean, I thought you two needed to talk, and I’ve been enduring you two’s patented True Love Stare for like five years now, so I thought maybe you’d finally get around to _not_ talking, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be sexiled every night forever!”

“Every evening! Not night! C’mon, I’m not gonna make you sleep in the car, Sammy. I’ll text you when we’re—when it’s OK to come in.”

“Great, cause I’ve been wishing my phone had a feature that notified me when my brother had achieved orgasm,” huffed Sam. “Besides, Cas ain’t exactly subtle.”

Dean blushed the happiest blush Sam had ever seen.

“Look,” said Sam, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I’m happy for you, I am. Both of you—you’ve been heading for this since Cas dragged you out of Hell, I think. And I know we’ll be knee-deep in apocalypse again any day now, cause that’s what we do, so while things are quiet, you know, seize the day and all that.

“But once the temp drops below freezing, you two are back to eye contact only.”

*****

A week later, Sam was curled up in the Impala’s backseat under a polyester bedspread, absorbed in what would prove a really bad day for the Starks; inside the Top Hat Inn, Dean was staring down at Castiel’s cock with fierce determination. He hadn’t done this yet. There was no reason he couldn’t—God knows he’d spent many a joyous hour plunged face-first into pussy, and surely _some_ of the skills must transfer, and surely he could extrapolate the rest from his experience on the receiving end, right? And (Dean thought guiltily) it’s not like Cas had anything to compare it to, so if this ended up kinda sloppy and half-assed, he’d probably still be into it. Right?

But here he was, hands spread over Cas’s angular hips, his face so near the angel’s erection he could feel the hot heartbeat pulsing through it. There was incredible power in this body that was suddenly _his_ to enjoy, and he wanted to enjoy _all_ of it, but he just kept overthinking, and wondering how many blowjobs had previously occurred on this bed, and—

“Dean,” growled Cas, “if you are not going to fellate me, please come up here and kiss me on the mouth.”

“No, no, I’m gonna do it. It’s gonna be fine,” said Dean, closing his eyes and closing the gap.

He licked up the shaft, once, tongue flat against the ridge, and Cas made another of those muffled yelps that were quickly edging out Zeppelin on the list of Dean’s favorite sounds.

He licked again, and received the same reply, with a note of entreaty creeping into its tone. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes,” yelped Cas. “Yes, Dean, yes.”

It was the yeses that got Dean every time—this simple and complete acceptance, which he’d belatedly realized had always been there, waiting for him to wrap himself up in it like armor, like a blanket, like both at the same time. It made him think: if Cas saw worth in him, he couldn’t be worthless.

He slid his mouth down over the head of Cas’s cock (“ _Oh, Dean_ ,” in a voice barely more than breath), and began to work in earnest.

Basic cocksucking wasn’t that hard, really—though Cas was, Jesus, filling Dean’s mouth and the hand he slipped beneath it to grip the base of the shaft, moving up and down in waves of fast and slow. Cas’s breath grew heavy, then seemed to disappear entirely for seconds at a time, until he let it out again with a noise like he’d landed from a great height.

It’s true it wasn’t entirely comfortable; it wasn’t long before Dean got a crick in his neck that he knew would be an ache tomorrow. He kept trying to relax his jaw, but it stayed locked wide, as he gave Cas room to thrust. But there was such a raw, addicting power to this, to being able to tear these unguarded sounds and barely controlled movements from this formidable creature, so vulnerable under his attention. 

To hearing his own name pouring so helplessly from the throat of an angel. 

An angel who loved him, body and soul.

So, yeah, for all that he could put up with choking a little.

Cas’s hips were bucking wildly in his grip; Dean kept trying to force them still, but it was a losing battle, especially as the angel’s breath grew more ragged and he approached his peak. Dean backed off for a moment, licking slowly up and over as he glanced up into wild, half-glazed blue eyes, before sinking down as far as he could go ( _don’t gag, Winchester_ ), closing his eyes against the sudden blaze of light as Cas came down his throat. 

And exploded every lightbulb in a quarter-mile radius. Damn, they were gonna leave a swath of ruined motel rooms across the country, weren’t they? Like a couple of rock stars.

Dean rode out Cas’s last waning thrusts, trying to figure out what the taste of semen reminded him of. Was it blood? That would explain why it seemed so…familiar.

He left off wondering quickly, though, because Cas was upon him, dragging Dean up for a bruising kiss and rolling himself on top. “Thank you, Dean,” he murmured. “That was beautiful.”

“Yeah, I guess I did all right,” said Dean, breathlessly aware of his own rigid cock matched against Cas’s spit-slick and softening one. He rolled his hips up in request, and Cas slid his hand down between them to stroke Dean gently, so gently that Dean growled impatiently, until he opened his eyes to see a half-smile on the angel’s face. When had Cas learned to tease?

Somehow, while the angel still couldn’t reliably operate Sam’s laptop without accidentally changing all the menus to Mandarin, he was a remarkably quick learner in bed. Which was often awesome—despite his recent performance, Dean was pretty sure Cas gave better head than he did—but right now, maddening.

“Dean,” Cas said, so low and so close to his ear Dean felt the vibrations set off sympathetic tremors down his spine. “I would like you to talk to me.”

Dean groaned, half in pleasure, half in frustration—Cas’s fingers were feather-light along the stiff length of him, dipping down to softly roll the weight of his balls across his palm. “You want me to talk dirty, huh? OK, OK, I can do that. Uh—God, that feels so good, baby. You’re so hot. I want you to fuck me, Cas. Fuck me hard.”

Cas shook his head, but didn’t stop his tender touches. “That’s not what I meant, Dean. Your body is right here, I know what it wants. I want you to tell me about your heart.”

“I can’t. I don’t—I can’t do that mushy stuff, you know that.”

The angel continued taking tiny sipping kisses from Dean’s lips, dropping them like falling stars along the jut of his jaw and the skin stretched delicately over the pulse in his neck. “Do you know how little of my life I have spent in corporeal form, Dean? I am grateful for this body, I love what it can do with yours—but understand, this is not what I really am. Words are what I have lived on, Dean. Millennia of words.”

He brushed his mouth over Dean’s, a whisper that was also a command. “You have words for me, I know. Tell me. Tell me about the first time you wanted to kiss me.”

“Mmm,” whimpered Dean, as the angel licked a stripe along his collarbone, nipping at the hollow of his throat. “You really think I’m gonna be able to remember that when you’re distracting me like this?”

“Am I really distracting you, Dean? Think about it. You can let my touch focus you instead.”

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to concentrate, leaning into Cas’s attentions with his whole being. “OK. The first time? The very first time was…it was when I saw your wings.”

That startled Cas, and his hands stilled for an agonizing second or two before starting up a firmer stroke that threw Dean back into incoherence. “But that was—”

“Yeah, the first time we met, I know,” said Dean, coloring as he met Cas’s astonished eyes. “You gotta understand, Cas, it’s kind of my default setting. I see someone, you know, fuckable, I wanna fuck ‘em. And there you were, with those huge, badass _wings_ —man, I was terrified for sure, but I was also kinda…horny, OK?”

Cas kissed him, hard. “Dean,” he muttered again, and Dean would never, ever get tired of how that voice gave his name so much meaning—“I, too, have loved you for that long. I have loved you since I raised you from the Pit.”

With a pang of guilt, Dean shook his head. “I didn’t say I loved you, Cas. Not then. I just wanted you to tear my clothes off, and—well, Jesus, I wanted you to do _that_ ,” as the angel wrapped his fingers tighter around Dean’s aching cock, his other hand gripping Dean’s hipbone hard enough to bruise.

“When, then? Tell me when you loved me, Dean.”

Dean thought, letting pleasure wash over him—he was surprised to find that it could actually clear his mind if he let it. “It was small, I remember that,” he said. “It wasn’t you being badass or smiting or hitting me with one of God’s crappy plans or anything. I think—it was just one time, you looked at me, up close, and it was just _there_ all of a sudden. _You_ were there, and suddenly you were all I wanted.”

Vague as it was, this seemed to be exactly what Cas wanted to hear, because he kissed Dean like he was starved for it, jacking him with long, powerful strokes until Dean came with his tongue filling Cas’s mouth, blacking out for a fraction of a second while what felt like a thousand volts ran down the miles of his nervous system.

He’d barely recovered when he found himself face-down on the mattress, Cas’s tongue digging between his spread cheeks. Too spent from his own orgasm to do anything but ride the sensations, Dean gasped as the angel’s slick fingers worked him open, squeaked sharply as Cas turned and bit into the taut muscles of his ass.

Then the angel was covering him, pushing inside him, and Jesus, this was so good, so _safe_. Dean felt possessive and possessed all at once. Cas was muttering Enochian in his ear—whether filthy or adoring he didn’t know, but it sounded like both—and pounding him prone into the mattress, his hands like steel around Dean’s wrists.

This time, when Cas came, he sent the clock radio flying across the room to smash the TV screen.

When his phone chirped, Dean wriggled out from under the sweaty weight of a thoroughly spent Cas to find a text from Sam: _If you two get arrested for sex-induced property damage I refuse to bail you out._

Followed seconds later by: _You would not believe what just happened in this book. This family might have worse luck than ours._

And then: _Hit the showers, guys, I’m sleepy. And plug in that air freshener I bought, I am NOT sleeping in a sex fog again, I had the most disturbing dreams._

All Dean sent back was: _do those bossypants come in non-sasquatch sizes cause i might want a pair_

He smiled at Sam’s two-word answer.


End file.
